


Do You, Basil

by Anonymous



Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Family Issues, M/M, Marriage, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:23:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Basil and Ratigan get married on time, despite complications.Sequel to 'The Only Sensible Option' (Part 2 of 3)





	Do You, Basil

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read 'The Only Sensible Option'. Here's the follow up.

 

Basil genuinely hadn’t meant for it to happen.

 

The Case of the Missing Page had been a tricky one from the start, and he hadn’t been expecting to find much when the scent led him into the small office of a Ms. Browne. He’d been startled, however, by a male vole he presumed _not_ to be the aforementioned Ms. Browne bursting out from underneath the desk and unsuccessfully attempting to bat him over the head before escaping. In defending himself Basil had wrenched his arm painfully, but after careful examination he was satisfied there was no serious damage. Naturally, he pursued the vole sporadically over the next few hours, taking refuge whenever the man disappeared from sight, or stalking the same area for a time. 

 

The vole, although clearly resourceful, didn’t seem worried enough to put as much distance between himself and the scene of the crime as possible, and Basil was astonished when, after a short, sleepless night he found they’d quite inadvertently checked in at the same lodgings.

 

Basil spent a good while observing him from behind a newspaper in the tavern, and when he found he could gain no more information in doing so, the chase was on again. He would have attempted to speak to the man; even to offer money, but after ten minutes of running along the gutters of Queen Anne Street, Basil seriously misjudged the strength of a rubble pile he’d been climbing over. He crashed to the ground rather painfully, and it took him a few moments too long to right himself. By the time the trail had run well and truly cold, he was likewise freezing, wet, and absolutely covered in grime.

 

Therefore it was with some consternation that, upon letting himself into his home, he came face to face with his less-than-pleased parents and a very worried Mrs. Judson.

 

After a short debate, his mother asserted that it was in fact Tuesday and that they needed to be at the church in less than an hour.

 

‘I’ve come across valuable new evidence – ’ Basil said as his father manhandled him into the bathroom, ‘ – a most interesting case!’

 

But everyone was apparently more fascinated in the whereabouts of his cufflinks.

 

He felt himself deflate; the excitement of the chase giving way to exhaustion and nerves. Perhaps choosing to get married as soon as possible hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

 

 

 

When Basil was finally scrubbed and dressed they all took a carriage to the church, which Basil always found to be an overcomplicated business of organising oneself with the human traffic, but his parents refused to even let Toby’s name be mentioned. They had, however, relented and allowed him to not only invite Mrs. Judson to the service but also to ride along with them.

 

Even with the pews filled to capacity, the church was vast and echoed in a way that made Basil itch. His concentration phased in and out as he was led up the aisle to stand beside Ratigan, and he barely focused in on the service except to respond with his ‘I dos’.

 

He found himself distracted by the pain in his arm and torso, and the fact that the vicar was obviously stealing from the church funds. Probably just as well they’d decided against exchanging rings, he thought.

 

Ratigan held his hand firmly throughout the ceremony, and when he gave it a gentle squeeze Basil looked up at him. He looked very good – handsome, even. Basil gave him an awkward, lopsided little smile and looked back at the vicar.

 

When they were finally shepherded along to sign the register, Ratigan drew Basil close.

 

‘You’re injured,’ he said under his breath. ‘I do hope you haven’t forgotten the terms we discussed?’

 

‘It’s just a strain,’ whispered Basil dismissively.

 

‘More than that, I think.’

 

‘If I hadn’t gone after this one it would have been a waste of an opportunity.’

 

Ratigan sighed.

 

‘Whatever shall I do with you?’ he muttered.

 

When Basil and Ratigan were properly, formally married – and it really did seem that abrupt – the congregation travelled only down the street to Mr. and Mrs. Nest’s home.

 

Everyone filed in and began drinking and talking; a dull kind of drone that made up most social engagements.

 

Ratigan stroked a hand across Basil’s back in a request that he follow him over to the grand fireplace, which he did.

 

‘May I see your arm?’ asked Ratigan.

 

‘It’s completely fine,’ replied Basil, shaking his head.

 

‘Can you lift it?’

 

Basil did, and winced.

 

‘See?’ he said. ‘Completely – ah! Fine.’

 

He brought his arm down and Ratigan narrowed his eyes, but the room became busier then, and Ratigan was forced to drop the subject.

 

For the next few minutes, they circled the room as husbands and greeted ‘their’ guests. Basil detested it; he couldn’t remember the last time (barring New Years Eve) he’d socialised and not been undercover. Ratigan kept nudging him every time he forgot himself and started evaluating their company.

 

Eventually, Ratigan left Basil’s side to speak to his rather stuffy-looking group of lawyer friends, leaving Basil in the company of Peter Fairmouse until _he_ was called away by his wife.

 

Basil observed everyone wearily.

 

To his surprise, the Morgans had shown up although Samuel was thankfully nowhere to be seen.

 

There were a couple of rats present, but a quick look was all Basil needed to know that they were not relatives of Ratigan’s.

 

He’d dared to ask after Ratigan’s family during the wedding arrangements, but Ratigan had smoothly denied the existence of any relations, and hadn’t even given Basil the satisfaction by getting angry. It was as good as he was going to get for now, Basil knew.

 

It was frustrating; he’d always secretly itched to know more about Ratigan. He watched his new husband as he skilfully led the conversation with his group. He blushed as he observed Ratigan’s back muscles flex beneath his jacket as the man waved a huge arm delicately in the air and everyone laughed at his anecdote.

 

‘Congratulations, Basil,’ said a dry voice, startling him.

 

He turned around.

 

It was Ada. She was smoking a cigarette from her gloved hand, and regarding him with an apparent disinterest that he knew was feigned. She’d put on weight since the last time Basil saw her, which tended to mean she was in good spirits. He immediately wrestled with himself in order to close up; to shut off all and any giveaways in his body and face.

 

‘Let me see,’ she continued, looking him up and down. ‘Somebody took a swipe at you – You blocked it, but pulled your arm.’

 

Basil sneered at her.

 

‘Easy, my dear,’ he said. ‘Care to guess anything about the attacker?’

 

She tilted her head slightly as she ran her gaze along Basil’s arm, and pursed her lips.

 

‘They were shorter than you,’ she said, ‘but brought the weapon down in order to knock you out, and so I might guess it was a woman.’

 

‘Yes?’ said Basil, not letting his anticipation show in his voice or face.

 

‘... But,’ Ada continued, and Basil’s small hope wilted, ‘they were stronger; stockier. And came at you clumsily. So I shall turn to statistics; choice of weapon and manner of attack and guess it was a man.’

 

Basil held back a snort.

 

‘Anything else?’ he asked.

 

‘ – The lack of dexterity implies that he didn’t have a very long tail, and that he had short arms and was top heavy with a large head for his body – he overbalanced perhaps before you even resisted his attack,’ she said after a beat. ‘I think he was a vole.’

 

‘You’ve been watching me since the beginning of the service,’ Basil said, annoyed. Ada was so very good at this.

 

‘You chased after him,’ she continued, ignoring him, ‘and before you lost him you fell... hmm, a drop of five feet in mouse’s terms?’

 

‘...Thereabouts,’ Basil replied grudgingly.

 

‘And had an awkward landing. How are your ribs?’ Ada asked then, tapping some ash off her cigarette into the small, pristine silver tray on the little table beside her.

 

‘They’re fine,’ said Basil, scowling.

 

‘Fortunate that you haven’t lost your ability to bounce. You were always tumbling over as a child.’

 

Basil rolled his eyes.

 

‘And now that you’ve guessed just about everything, I don’t suppose you have anything _useful_ to tell me?’

 

‘Nothing at all.’

 

‘Then why are you still here?’

 

‘Ah, yes. Just to say I think you made the correct decision in choosing Ratigan.’

 

Basil snorted.

 

‘Barely a decision,’ he said. ‘It was only at the last minute I was presented with a choice at all.’

 

Ada raised an eyebrow.

 

‘Indeed?’ she asked.

 

‘Yes!’ Basil hissed, before taking in her knowing expression. ‘Unless – oh, of course. I might have known!’

 

Basil was short of stamping his foot, and Ada held a hand up.

 

‘Calm yourself, Basil, I simply informed Ratigan of your previous engagement,’ she said.

 

‘I was never _engaged_ to Morgan!’ groused Basil, running his fingers through his hair. ‘I should have spotted your meddling a mile off.’

 

Ada stepped forwards and batted his hands away, patting his hair down again.

 

‘Well, it got you out of a bad marriage didn’t it?’ she said, and removed her hands as Basil grumbled. ‘He’s always been interested in you, you know? I thought it might be in our best interests to have him in the family. Mother and Father daren’t cross him.’

 

Basil glared at her.

 

‘You mean now he can help _you_ avoid an unwanted marriage?’ he said. ‘ _You_ could have married him instead, in fact I don’t know why this wasn’t forced on you instead seeing as you _are_ the older child.’

 

‘Who knows? Father says I do not make a ‘display’ of myself; make of that what you wish. Besides – of the two of us you are arguably the more aesthetically pleasing.’

 

‘Why, because I leave my chair more than once a month?’ snapped Basil.

 

‘If you like,’ said Ada mildly, checking her pocket watch. ‘I don’t think Ratigan would have taken me anyhow. There have always been possible spouses on the horizon for both of us. There was only so long we could drive them away, and I can’t think of a single one whom I might genuinely consider any kind of relationship with. You, on the other hand, have a very decent prospect in the professor. I always wondered at your attraction to him.’

 

Basil clenched his jaw for a moment, watching her. She tucked the watch back into her pocket.

 

‘Don’t be angry, Basil,’ she continued, sounding frustrated all of a sudden. ‘I merely wanted to give you my blessings. _I_ have more right to than either of them, after all.’

 

She inclined her head a minute fraction over to Mr. and Mrs. Nest, and Basil spared them a glance. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

 

‘Anyway, it is of no matter now I suppose,’ said Ada brusquely.

 

‘I don’t – ’ Basil began stiffly, uncertain.

 

Ada straightened up.

 

‘Goodbye, Basil,’ said Ada. ‘I wish you both great happiness.’

 

‘Thank you, I _suppose_ ,’ he said, and hesitated. ‘And you – look well, actually.’

 

‘Thank _you_. Perhaps Mother and Father will have me married off yet, eh?’

 

She left swiftly; disappearing into the crowd.

 

Basil watched her go, and swallowed the hundreds of questions that had surfaced in her presence, as they always did.

 

 

 

The remainder of the festivities passed in a very slow, solemn blur. Basil was exhausted.

He was tired of the noise and the party and the people... He was so very tired... and his body ached painfully.

 

They left in a carriage that stopped just a little way off from Baker Street. Ratigan helped Basil down off the thing, and then arm in arm; they walked in the direction of Basil’s home. Basil moved automatically; propelled by Ratigan’s bulk. They didn’t speak. Was Ratigan angry, he wondered?

 

It had been agreed that they would return to Basil’s residence after the wedding, at least for now. Although far from ideal in that Basil did not want to share too much of his profession with Ratigan yet, it was still much closer to the church than Ratigan’s home in Westminster. He also feared that Ratigan still secretly intended to sell it when he got the chance. He had no evidence to confirm or deny this suspicion, but felt more secure about the whole thing just by coming back to his beloved home. Over the past few months he’d had recurring nightmares about his parents gleefully emptying the place of his possessions; destroying all his instruments and research. It was reassuring to stand before his front door again, even as he swayed dangerously from fatigue and mild inebriation.

 

He wondered if he ought to be more concerned; it had to be painfully obvious that he was in no fit state to engage in any kind of intercourse. And he knew that Ratigan was keen to enjoy married life to the full; they’d discussed it. Would he consider it a breach of contract if Basil didn’t indulge him now? They’d already agreed to share a bed, after all.

 

‘Oh, Basil,’ said Ratigan gently, from behind him.

 

Basil barely registered being lifted, but he did realise when he’d been carried over the threshold of his own home; Ratigan had to stoop so low in order to do it that he’d practically curled around him in the process. Perhaps, were he more clear-headed, he’d have been annoyed. No doubt Ratigan had done it to amuse himself on some level. But how was he to understand the significance of such customs? Perhaps it was important to Ratigan in some way, as well.

 

Ratigan set him down when they were inside, before disappearing off in search of Mrs. Judson.

 

Basil made a beeline for his bedroom, removing his coat and jacket and nearly tearing at his cravat along the way. He’d intended to throw himself down onto his bed and sleep, but was dismayed to find his old bed gone, and a huge, double bed, more suited to Ratigan’s size, in its place.

 

Of course.

 

He sank down to sit on the bed, dumbfounded. He could hear Ratigan speaking to Mrs. Judson, and remembered that she hadn’t been invited to the celebrations afterwards.

 

‘Basil?’

 

Basil jerked slightly but didn’t turn around.

 

‘Here,’ said Ratigan, and something warm pressed against Basil’s arm.

 

He looked down, and found a hot water bottle being held against him. He recognised it; it looked comically small in Ratigan’s big, gloved hand. Ratigan was smiling softly at him. He took it from him nodding gratefully, before having to look away.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

 

‘Darling, it’s all right,’ murmured Ratigan.

 

Basil gave a high, shaking intake of breath and let himself fall onto the mattress. He buried his face into the pillow beneath him. His body shook with an energy he hadn’t realised was still in him as he struggled to regain control, cradling the hot water bottle against his ribs.

 

Ratigan stroked his head gently.

 

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Sleep.’


End file.
